We are the Horizon
by 7sourcherryscones
Summary: Adrien Agreste has had enough. Whether it be the endless photo shoots he has to endure, or his very limited freedom, his father has complete control over his life. He can only think of one solution: run away from home to go live with his boyfriend Luka. That is, until his father's assistant Nathalie catches him.
1. Part 1

It all started with a tense 'family dinner', filled with emotionless comments from father that I wasn't listening to. They went something along the lines of 'take some more photos for that popular magazine' and 'I just made a new deal with the manager of some female model you don't even know so you can take some half naked photos with her. Oh come on Adrien, it'll be fun! The girls go crazy over this stuff.' Obviously not in those words.

Also what about the stuff I'm crazy about? If he paid me half the attention he does those models' managers he would have realised by now that it's definitely not girls in barely existent bikinis smothering me while people take photos of us.

So I rambled on for a bit about my friends, life, the usual. He wasn't having it. Then came the talk about my future. What future.

Adrien Agreste, daddy's boy, teenage heartthrob. The famous boy who models for his famous father's fashion lines -yes that's right, The Gabriel Agreste. That's the image.

I hate it.

I said that to him.

You can imagine how that went.

But the thing is, he doesn't really know what's best for me. He doesn't even fucking know me.

And the stuff I am crazy about? Try, escaping to the Couffaine houseboat as Chat Noir, hidden by the shadows of the pitch black autumn night as I jump from rooftop to rooftop, knowing that Luka is waiting for me. His autumn-inspired nail polish and a matching new guitar pick strumming softly, waiting for our long conversations that go nowhere and mean nothing. They mean everything.

Or spending a winter evening giggling under a pile of blankets and pillows with Juleka and Rose while Luka plays Christmas songs on his guitar and Anarka makes us all extra foamy hot chocolates. We all sing along, often completely out of time, drunk on love and laughter.

What about lounging on their deck chairs in springtime, Luka running his fingers through my hair, the two of us not bothering to hide our smiles as we watch Rose make daisy chains and then Juleka piles as many as she can onto her head and around her neck until she looks like a flower patch herself, but only for Rose, because she loves her.

And then there's the gorgeous summer sunsets Luka and I watch together, the beautiful array of pinks and oranges reflecting in both our eyes. Sometimes we just stare and lean over the railing, other times we are deep in conversation. Then we'll look at each other and share a long look that isn't saying anything, not even I love you. Because we already know that. Besides, we spend enough time repeating those three words like a prayer minutes later, our foreheads pressed together, my hands in his hair and his arms circling my waist and pulling me even closer.

'I love you,' he'll whisper, his hot breath tickling my mouth, but I don't mind, because it's Luka.

And I'll laugh before repeating the words back to him- just a soft chuckle that only he can hear. Because he's said it a thousand times. And every time he does, it sends a new excited shiver down my spine and a warm feeling to my stomach and my brain goes fuzzy. Like it means as much as the first time. It does.

And then his hand will brush gently against my cheek and he'll watch me in wonder as I look back up at him. He always looks at me like he's admiring an artwork. I don't think I'm worthy of a Van Gogh, but of course Luka disagrees- I'm his personal Starry Night. He says the yellow is beautiful, bright like the sun, happy, light and carefree like a field of flowers and other pretty things that people want to see. But all the deep shades of blue that flow and curl through the sky and the silhouettes of the buildings are his favourite. That's the side of me people don't know, the part of me they don't see in all the magazines and on fan websites.

That's what makes me interesting, he says. That's what made him fall for me.

(That and my undying love and devotion to baked goods from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.)

Then I'll play with the baby hairs at the back of his neck and he'll trace his fingers from my cheek back down my body to rest at the small of my back. And then beautiful, poetic Luka will pull me closer still and kiss me like I'm everything. Like I'm the only person that matters, that he'll ever love. He'll kiss me the same way I'll hold onto him- as if the world is about to end.

Which it just might, if my father finds out.

—

'What're you-'

'Leaving.' I throw a pair of jeans at my suitcase full force, just for emphasis. Natalie takes another tentative step towards me, no doubt unsure how to handle me in my uncharacteristically angry and unpredictable state, while I continue to slam drawers and messily fold t shirts.

'Adrien, what valid reason could you possibly-

'Father.' I cut her off again, with another sharp word. At this point, I can almost see her face reddening in frustration.

'Adrien.' She stands up taller and shakes herself, eyes half closing back to their usual neutral position.

'Whatever your father did, though I'm quite certain this is an overreaction, I'm sure you can talk to him about it and straighten this out.'

'He gives me no freedom, he doesn't give a shit about what I want, and he never listens!'

My room falls eerily silent, excluding my ragged breathing.

'Adrien,' she says my name again, a shiver taking over my body before I hunch further forward over my clothes.

'He only wants what's best for you.'

I freeze, now hovering over my underwear drawer. That's the last thing I wanted her to say. I tell her that.

I mean, I didn't exactly expect her to surprise me by sitting down with me and saying 'ok. I respect your decision, Adrien Agreste, valued member of society, person who is entitled to their own opinions and rights'.

I decide to say that as well, but I immediately regret doing so.

It comes out a cruel, disrespectful spit, with too many words I don't mean. Natalie has never spoken to me like this. Nobody ever has. I hope no one ever does. I don't tell her any of that.

'Well it's not like either of you will ever respect me! I'm a human too. Ya know, with rights and all. A voice? Why do you get to have all that? I wish you didn't. All you ever do is use your power over me to cut me off and tell me it's all for my own good.' Her face reddens, but my anger won't cease. 'It. Never. Is.' That part comes out choked. 'You're just as bad... no- worse- than Hawkmoth.' I pause to look at her, but for some reason I keep going.

'Why couldn't you and father have left me, instead of mother.' I'm crying now, hot tears stinging my pink cheeks, but I don't stop to console myself. 'Imagine.' A strangled laugh escapes my throat as I throw my arms wide, letting them fall and slap my legs a moment later.

'A household of freedom and love, instead of five intolerable years of this... this... abuse!'

That's it. I'm done. I can't possibly summon any more insults to throw at her. All the emotions I've bottled up have risen to the surface of the volcano, burning everyone in its path.

I collapse on the floor and slump backwards against the foot of my bed, hitting my head on the wood but only caring enough to fumble my hand through my hair and rub lightly.

Covering my face with my arms I press my nose against my knees and cry.

I don't hold back anything.

I'm a huge mess, strangled cries and sobs and breaths coming out louder than I want, but who cares. Father should know what he does to me.

Natalie really does surprise me now. After a minute of my insane sobs tearing through the silence of my massive and yet lonely room, I hear her heels click a few steps my way. She stops. I do too. Well, to the best of my ability.

I pathetically sniffle and rub my eyes and all over my face as the sound of creasing pants tells me she's kneeling. By my side. After I screamed that I hated her and father and wished they didn't exist.

'Jesus Christ, Adrien.' That's all she says, for a bit. I give in, even though she probably hates me. Even though I know she always sides with my father.

Natalie wraps her arm around my shoulders as I press my shaking body further into the side of her freshly pressed suit.

Five minutes later, I'm in exactly the same position, but she's sitting down next to me, her left leg stretched out, her right knee pressing against my bent legs.

I'm slowly curling into a tighter ball at her side.

I feel her inhale deeply, about to break the silence.

'Adrien,' a heavy, shaking breath out. A cool hand on my burning cheek as she adjusts herself to be sitting in front of me.

'I don't-'

'Sorry,' I mumble, leaning into her palm.

'I'm an idiot.'

'No you're not. Don't say that. It's been hard for you, Adrien. You're only eighteen. Your mother-'

I exhale shakily. Natalie looks me up and down and winces. She takes a ridiculously large breath and starts talking quietly to me, as if father might appear any second.

'I've always thought it was too much. The modelling, the scheduled family time, all of it. Your mother vanished, and yet he carries on like it means nothing to you.' As if I wasn't already taken aback, she inhales again.

'Gabriel is an awful single parent.'

I see the tiniest flicker of guilt, maybe regret, in her expression as soon as she's said it. But it's gone almost immediately.

She laughs nervously and I hold her hand, somehow grinning along with her despite everything.

Fuck regret. My father- The Gabriel Agreste- sucks. And Natalie actually agrees with me.


	2. Part 2

It's 11:30pm and I'm lying on my freshly washed sheets, envying Luka. I spend a lot of time wishing I was like him, could be like him.

He's twenty years old, a musician and untouchably happy, in his own unique way. He still lives with his younger sister and mum, and they all absolutely adore each other. I don't see him ever moving out (if it weren't for me, that is. Luka often talks about getting us a small apartment somewhere near the University I want to go to. I still can't imagine father granting either of these wishes).

I sometimes- who am I kidding, it occupies my every thought, activity, brain cell, etc.- wonder what it would be like to have that kind of freedom.

Because however often I tell myself father will be fine with the whole moving out/in with Luka and going to a university I chose thing, I just don't believe that's true.

Luka.

I can't stop thinking about Luka.

I haven't seen or even texted him since this time two weeks ago. He knows why, Nino (bless him) let him know for me, but it's been killing me.

This time two weeks ago, Natalie and I had a long talk about, well, everything. It was good, I think. We spoke a lot about me. This time I was featured a lot more heavily in the plan for my future than my father.

She didn't brush me aside, ignore my opinions or tell me what she thought was good for me.

For the first time in my life, I actually had a say in it.

I also (somehow) worked up the courage to tell her about Luka. That I have a boyfriend. I'm bisexual. Truth be told, I was practically drowning in internal (and sort of literal) sweat and tears before I broke it to her, my face fixed in a grimace, my eyes -puffy from my meltdown- squeezed tightly shut.

Natalie was really sweet, which I suppose I should have expected, given our whole previous conversation. There are a lot of close minded people out there but there's awesome, supportive, caring people too. I guess I sometimes forget those people exist.

Anyway, Natalie said she would speak to my father as soon as she could- because she understood, she cared- Oh, she told him. And while she tried to keep clear of telling him that his parenting methods were wrong, she did convey -pretty clearly I think- some of the things I was feeling.

They came to an agreement that I'm semi-fine with for now;

1\. I am eighteen, so I'm to be given more freedom. I don't always have to tell him where I am.

2\. The 'which university' conversation is still open.

3\. Father will try to get used to the idea of me being... not straight. Actually, that's not so great. But I kinda get it, he's not a very progressive person. Alya and Nino both say I'm too forgiving.

4\. My schedule has been rearranged to fit in more time to myself, and less photo shoots. I still don't really know what to do with this one. I guess (once I can) I'll use it to spend as much time with Luka as possible. I've already dedicated Tuesday and Friday afternoons to my friends (which has been so much fun, by the way!).

5\. This one is stupid. No reasoning behind it at all. No Luka (only for two weeks! half an hour to go...). Father advised (his homophobic inner voice speaking, no doubt) that it would be best if I had time off from 'distractions' (I would say that my friends are the most distracting, I think he already knows that. But I still get to see them).

So here I am, 11:59pm on a Friday night, window open to let in some of the refreshing spring breeze rustling wind chimes and tossing stray leaves and pollen, longing for the final second of the painful minute left until the end of my two weeks.

My phone flickers off and I hurriedly turn it on again.

12:00am, Saturday.

My shoes already laced and clothes already on (a white singlet and pale denim jeans), I haphazardly leap off my bed, turn off my lights and tug my phone off it's charger, which I nearly yank from it's socket in the wall in my enthusiasm.

Natalie (no surprise there) is standing calmly at the front door once I've rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over my own feet. I think she might be wondering why I wasn't here a minute ago, waiting for the clock to strike 12 so I could bolt straight out the door.

I wouldn't be able to think of an answer.

She pats my bare shoulder comfortingly- sometimes I wonder if she can read minds, or if I'm just the most painfully obvious human being ever- which helps soothe my nerves.

Just as I'm about to close the door, she reaches out to block it, a button on her sleeve coming undone in the process.

'Go get him, kid,' she winks. I grin in response.

God, this woman keeps surprising me.

'He's already my boyfriend!'

—

I never thought I could get so worked up over the click of a door opening, but here it is, folks. Adrien Agreste, hottest model of the year (don't ask), getting flustered over a guy opening a door. Heart racing, juvenile stomach butterflies, sweat, the lot.

But as soon as I see the familiar black to blue hair, tussled slightly by the wind, and his serene ocean coloured eyes, it feels like coming home.

I melt in his arms and he holds me, both of us crying softly, him into my already messy and windswept hair, me into his black hoodie.

I wish we could stay here forever. Tears and all. Holding each other, like we haven't seen each other in years. It's perfect. I love him.

I whisper this into his jumper, and (oh dear god) his melodic voice replies with a soft 'moi aussi, mon amour. I missed you.'

And then I reach up and I kiss him. I kiss him with so much force that I think we're both scared for a second that I knocked him over, but he's strong, and it still wouldn't matter if I did.

I want to keep kissing him until I die (or feint, when I eventually run out of air), but he pulls away, laughing. 'Mon amour, so needy!' He ruffles my hair because he knows I hate it. I could never hate him. I know he also does it because of our height difference (he's 6 foot 2 while I'm only 5 foot 10. It's not fair. He's awfully evil about it too).

'Come on, Mum has been dying to get you to try her new hot chocolate recipe!' Luka laces his fingers through mine, and he practically drags me to the kitchen; I only just stop myself from crashing into him.

'But it's too hot for hot chocolate!' I protest, flicking Luka's hoodie and raising my eyebrows at him. He just laughs again and I don't complain. His laugh sounds almost as good as when he sings.

Anarka suddenly appears at my side, holding a pot that should really be too big for hot chocolate, but her's is incredible, so you just can't help having too much.

I turn to her, hands on my hips and a frown on my face.

'How dare you change your recipe!' I look pointedly at the pot. I am joking, but seriously. How could she. This'd better be good.

'Adrien!' She hugs me so enthusiastically with one arm that Luka almost has to catch the pot out of her other hand.

'I thought you loved surprises, especially when it comes to sweet treats!' She winks, kissing both my cheeks. I get the warm fuzzy feeling I get whenever I'm here.

'That's true. Oh well, I'm up for it, but it'd better be iced chocolate.' I fan my face just to prove my point, staring pointedly at Luka. 'I don't know how this idiot does it,' I tug on his hood, pulling it up and over his face and quickly pulling the drawstrings before he can do anything about it, so he looks like a discombobulated ninja.

Anarka bursts out laughing, a sweet sound you wouldn't expect from a woman with an accent who goes around talking like a pirate.

Although Luka has to get it from somewhere.

She pulls the hood off his face and walks back into the kitchen. 'Adrien's right, you know,' she nods, 'he's in a singlet, and you're dressed for bloomin winter!' She lovingly taps his head with her wooden spoon, only for him to grab it and get her back.

Now he's chasing me. I duck behind the door frame, but Anarka corners me, just for a second though, because I escape under her arm. Only to crash right into Luka.

Of course he catches me, his strong arms (covered by a thick jumper. The lunatic) gripping tightly around my torso. Anarka takes the opportunity to snatch the spoon from his hand, but he just stares at me. I can hear Juleka and Rose snickering from the next room; they must have heard all the (very loud) screaming and come to make sure no one was being murdered.

Right now they don't matter though, because it's just me and Luka. Luka and me.

It's all very cliché; he's leaning forward over me, hasn't moved from when he stopped me from falling. Our noses are almost touching. I can feel his hands moving along my back, one drifting down to my waist, the other to the back of my neck.

All I can think in my frenzied, lovesick mind is Luka Luka Luka ohmygod Luka has his hands all over me kiss me please.

And of course he does. My arms instinctively wrap around his neck, and he pulls me upright, completely, so he isn't bending down to kiss me. I have to stand on my toes and pull his head down to my level instead.

It's different to our kiss earlier, less desperate, sweeter, longer.

We break away to the sound of Juleka mumbling 'get a room', Rose: 'but they're so cute!' and Anarka just chuckling in amusement.

I realise then that the four of them have stayed up to wait for me.

Before following Juleka and Rose to the TV, Luka's eyes twinkle and he pulls my head closer, drifting his fingers down to fiddle with my top. 'My mum can sometimes be very wise...' he whispers, and my face heats up as his other hand slips under my shirt. 'You look fantastic in a singlet.'

—

That night (I should say morning) I stay at the Couffaine's. Natalie knows. Well, I think she assumed.

The movie finished an hour ago and everyone is asleep but us. Luka tugs on my top and flashes a stunning smile at me. My heart does a crazy leap for joy. God, I've missed this man.

We wedge ourselves out from the small pile of humans gathered around and on top of the couch, careful not to wake them.

Luka takes me by the hand like an insistent child, stupid grins on both our faces.

We can't resist stopping and kissing against the wall on the way to his bedroom, excitement and anticipation overflowing, and most of all, love.

I close the door behind me with my body; Luka pushing me gently against it, hands on my face and lips on mine.

We kiss and kiss for ages until I'm convinced our lips might fall off.

As I move away from the wall, inching our bodies slowly towards his bed, I can feel his soft smile against my lips.

Still, as his back hits the covers and I sit defiantly on top of him, leaning down to peck at his lips (its nice being able to do that sometimes, me bending down to kiss him) he grins like he just won the lottery.

It's then I realise- he may have teased me about it (it was only two weeks) but he missed me just as much as I missed him.

I sigh and gasp as Luka kisses my neck, sitting up to face me while his arms encircle my waist; pushing up my singlet, his fingers occasionally brushing and then squeezing mine as I help him pull it over my head.

He lets out a little whine, and a smile plays on my lips, which I'm using to plant tiny kisses down his neck to his already bare chest.

Then Luka shuffles behind me, an odd wiggle that shakes the bed and makes us both choke out laughter.

We spend the next few minutes laughing quietly and it's blissful. At some point, Luka caught me before I toppled over backwards and pushed me down himself, now I'm lying flat, back pressed into the bed, Luka on top of me and peppering kisses all over my face.

So amongst it all; Luka removing the rest of his clothes and also mine because I can't think clearly right now, my fingers running through his hair and around his neck and up and down his back, and his hands roaming all over my body, and our mouths pressed together for eternity, I manage to tell him.

The extent to which I love him (limitless).

Everything I feel.

I tell him, Luka, my gorgeous enchanting Luka, it felt like years. I know I always say I love you, I do, but you're so much more.

You're like the ocean, constantly surprising me with new waves that make me feel alive, like a kid, like I'm experiencing everything for the first time. But somehow it all feels the same, comforting, all the waves are part of a beautiful larger pattern, and that's you. You are the ocean.

You're my ocean.

You're one of my best friends, you have so much laughter and happiness to give the world, but you're also incredible in a way I don't even understand. Somehow so deep and poetic, more than I could ever imagine, your heart filled with music and boundless love.

And Luka, you make me feel... no you make me sure, that I'm everything to you. If you're the ocean then I'm the sky. And, well, it feels like you've given me the world. Or opened my eyes to it at least.

Because you're the ocean and I'm the sky.

Because you're you and I'm me.

Us.

It's perfect.


End file.
